21 Uses for Tribbles
by Majorkami
Summary: On a tribble-infused adventure, our heroes discover just how useful (and destructive) the little creatures are. Co-authored by Sarai-IceElf. Complete!
1. Nerfguns and Experimentation

Disclaimer: I/we do not own Star Trek TNG or any of the characters or other lifeforms, we just like to play with them. Unless your Geordi's lawyer, don't sue. (Sarai: But that doesn't stop me from hunting them^^)  
  
21 Uses for Tribbles  
  
1) Nerf-gun ammo  
  
"These things are great!" Geordi called out as he fired at Data. The fluffy ammunition from his 'nerf-gun', a mysterious device Riker brought back from who-knows-where, squealed as it hit the wall above Data's head. The android was hiding behind the table-thingy in Engineering that controls the entire ship while reloading his own nerf-gun from a squirming bag slung over his shoulder.  
  
" I must admit that these peculiar weapons are most fascinating," Data responded as he finished reloading his weapon, "Although I must confess that I do not know where one could find such a large supply of tribbles."  
  
All set, Data swung out of hiding just as another shot from La Forge glanced off the table with a shower of sparks. Through the spray Data loosed a single squeaking shot, which caught the chief engineer right in the chest. Unfortunately, Geordi was standing right in front of the warp core, and the squealing fluff-ball sent him hurtling over the railing and down the warp core. Data slapped his commbadge as he abandoned his weapon to go find Geordi.  
  
"Medical emergency in engineering!"  
  
No one noticed as the android's ammunition bag, left near the table, crawled away.  
  
2)Medical helpers  
  
Dr. Crusher sighed as she looked at La Forge. Half an hour ago, the orderlies had brought the chief engineer to Sickbay. With him however she had acquired more help. Obedient help. Reaching out for the next tool she needed for surgery, it was quickly handed to her by something fluffy.  
  
"Thank you, my minions," she said smiling. A room-wide purr was her response from the carpet of tribbles now staked out in Sickbay. Her next realization took the smile off her face. Her scans showed ill for our fallen (favourite) engineer.  
  
"Dammit! He needs a new heart!"  
  
Growling she took a survey of her surroundings realizing how useful the dismissed orderlies actually were. Her thoughts were interrupted by a tribble nuzzling her leg.  
  
"Not now, 231." trailing off, she looked down. Her smile once again returned along with a nasty glint in her eye. The tribble, number 231, quivered, registering its doom.  
  
3) Substitute organs  
  
" Stop squirming 231! You're going to a good home!"  
  
Dr. Crusher had the tribble in both hands, trying to force it into place through the incision she had made. The frantic tribble squealed and wiggled, but to no avail. A moment later it was neatly hooked into Geordi's cardiopulmonary system.  
  
"There, see? Nice and warm!"  
  
She hummed as she sealed up the incision, then dropped her tools on the floor.  
  
"Okie, time for lunch!"  
  
The tribbles bodysurfed each instrument back into place as Crusher went into her office. 


	2. Placards and Snugglefests

Discaimer Disclaimer: You heard it already, so leave us alone. (In the background: M.K. "No, Sarai, put that down! No!" Sarai "The discaimer is mine! *evil laugh* You abandoned it, but I won't!^^" M K "Right *edges away*)  
  
4) Bouncers  
  
Captain Picard was almost to Sickbay. He had tried calling Beverly to check on his chief engineer's condition, but for some reason she wasn't answering her commbadge (he didn't know that the tribbles had eaten it). Outside the sickbay door (though our dear captain was too blind to notice) was a group of about thirty tribbles, carrying tiny handmade placards with slogans such as "Murderous Doctor!" and "Down with the doctor!". One tribble approached the captain, waving a sign that said "Free our Brethren", but was promptly squished by our most illustrious captain as he entered Sickbay.  
  
"Beverly? Are you here?"  
  
He listened for a response, and only then noticed the soft purring emanating from the floor. The entire floor was covered with tribbles. Just then, Crusher poked her head out of her office. She had a noodle cup in hand and ramen noodles streaming out of her mouth.  
  
"Oh, uh," Picard stuttered, unnerved by the undulating carpet as well as her somewhat unprofessional appearance, " I just came to check on Mr. La Forge. How is he?"  
  
"Fine! Completely fine!" she replied, the noodles somehow staying on her lower lip.  
  
"Could you be a little more informative."  
  
The change in her demeanour was striking. Crusher put down the noodle cup, and the noodles fell from her mouth and disappeared into the carpet as she glared malevolently.  
  
"Rise my minions! Remove the intruder! Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!"  
  
The tribbles moved forward as one oddly menacing body, knocking Picard down before bodysurfing him out the door. He landed on the tribble protestors, squishing half. The remaining protestors, enraged by the casualties to their ranks, beat him with their placards.  
  
5) Earmuffs  
  
The much-beaten Picard finally dragged himself to the turbolift. "Bridge," he croaked, limping inside. He was shivering as the lift ascended and stopped to allow Ensign No-name to enter. No-name was wearing a pair of purring earmuffs. Our brave captain turned to the ensign.  
  
"Is there something wrong with the environmental controls?" he asked.  
  
"Yes sir. The table-thingy in Engineering that controls the entire ship was damaged by a flying tribble. Repairs are being made, however."  
  
"Good, thank you." The captain replied, stepping onto the bridge. As the lift closed behind him he suddenly stopped, gaping at Troi, currently occupying the captain's chair.  
  
6) Fur coat  
  
Troi was wearing an elaborate fur coat. It was so thick it made Troi look like a deep arctic explorer, and was a vibrating, variegated brown. Deanna Troi didn't seem to notice that her coat was obviously alive as she got up from the captain's chair.  
  
"Nothing to report, sir."  
  
Picard nodded nonchalantly as he settled uneasily in his chair. He didn't think things could possibly get any weirder when the turbolift opened to reveal.  
  
7) Self-heating blanket  
  
. Riker, wrapped in a squirming, furry blanket.  
  
"Like my self-heating blankie?" he asked.  
  
"Um. very nice, Number One."  
  
Troi gasped, "It's still alive!"  
  
Riker snorted, replying, "Yeah, well so is your coat!"  
  
"It is?" she asked, as realization dawned on her, "Ahh, get them off!"  
  
Troi smacked at her coat in a vain effort to remove the tribbles. After a moment Riker decided to help her pull off the coat (as well as anything else she wanted to take off), and dropped it on the deck. The tribble coat became a mass of tribbles, who quickly dispersed and ran away. Troi shivered.  
  
"Now I'm cold!"  
  
Riker pulled part of his blanket off his shoulders.  
  
"I got lots of blanket. Wanna share?" he offered.  
  
"Okay." she replied, having already forgotten that the blanket was also alive. The pair snuggled in the blanket, all lovey-dovey, at the base of the captain's chair. Picard tried to get up, and presently discovered that Troi and Riker were happily camped out on his feet. He put his head in his hands, and thought ' I am surrounded by idiots.' 


	3. Mmm mystery meat

Once again, the now-tired disclaimer applies.  
  
8) Canned meat  
  
If Data could feel, he'd be feeling pretty bad right now. He had knocked his best friend down the warp core after all. Logically the best course of action was to apologize, which was the source of his current endeavour. Data had replicated nearly all the ingredients he needed to make authentic Earth chilli, and was preparing to begin his culinary exploits.  
  
"Now all I need is the meat." he told Spot, who was lounging on the nearby couch. Just then, his replicator sparked and went dark. A quick diagnostic showed that half the circuits would have to be replaced before it would be functional again.  
  
"This is most inopportune," Data said, "I still need meat."  
  
For no apparent reason Spot hopped off the couch and started pawing the wall, mewing.  
  
"What is it, Spot?"  
  
Data put his ear against the wall, and heard a soft purring coming from multiple creatures.  
  
"Excellent idea, Spot. Now all I need is a capturing device of some sort."  
  
The android rummaged around his quarters for a suitable container to catch tribbles with, and settled on a large coffee can, left over from his previous experiment with caffeine (Data on a caffeine high. oh the possibilities!). Fully armed, Data was now on the hunt.  
  
9) Cleaning toilets  
  
Two hour later, Data was cleaning up the remains of his chilli. Geordi had shown up 41.3 minutes before, looking most unusual. He appeared to be growing lumps all over his body, approximately 8.7 centimetres in diameter, and vibrating. He had graciously accepted Data's apology, mentioning something about a having a warm, fuzzy feeling, and had consumed most of the mystery meat chilli before disappearing into Data's bathroom. He'd been in there 17.8 minutes now, and Data was beginning to notice an unsavoury odour emanating from the small room. Apparently tribble meat was a natural laxative. Finally the door opened to reveal the engineer, who had more lumps in his uniform than before. As soon as the door opened, Spot leapt off the floor and ran headlong into the couch, sticking his head between the cushions. An alarm blared.  
  
"Warning!" the computer stated, "Level Three biohazard detected!"  
  
Geordi ran from the stench until he too collided with the couch, flipping it onto it's back. Data went to join him behind the couch as the tribbles who had been living under the couch crawled back with them.  
  
"Perhaps we could use the tribbles to clean the bathroom."  
  
Geordi just stared at him, confused, while another lump appeared on the engineer's arm. Data continued, "They are handy little creatures."  
  
"Okay," Geordi replied, "On the count of 3, we start chucking tribbles through the door. One, two, three!"  
  
Both officers sat up behind their cover, tribbles in hand. Spot still had his head in the couch, but now his butt was in the air as he tried to pull himself out of the cushions. On either side of the struggling cat, Data and Geordi started throwing tribbles into the bathroom as a greenish cloud slowly crept forward. After a moment, the cloud stopped advancing.  
  
"The tribbles appear to be making progress." Data stated.  
  
10) Plugging toilets  
  
"Hurry, it's gaining!"  
  
Geordi and Data were racing down the corridor, barely outrunning a wave of water. The tribbles had done a fantastic job of cleaning Data's bathroom, but as they had cleaned deeper and deeper into the pipes, they had multiplied until the bathroom had erupted into a fountain. Data's quarters had been flooded in no time. They heard a roar as the wave crested, a roar and a. meow? Spot was riding the wave in the tribble-catching coffee can as it surged ahead even faster and knocked both La Forge and Data to the deck. The wave washed over them. Spot sailed by.  
  
"Meoooooww. . ."  
  
Then it receded, taking Spot with it.  
  
"Meoooooww. . ."  
  
The can ran aground a few metres away as the soaked officers picked themselves up off the equally soaked deck.  
  
"Perhaps we should go to Sickbay." Data suggested, "You did not have a healthy reaction to lunch."  
  
"I've seen enough of Doctor Crusher to last awhile, Data."  
  
But the android insisted that the engineer should be checked out (yet neither of them seemed to notice the many lumps he was developing) so they finally started down the hall with Spot at their heels, not knowing that now the tribbles had spread to every part of the ship. 


	4. Now they're everywhere!

Disclaimer: You don't want it, I don't want it, but if it ain't here my butt gets sued. Anywho, enjoy. (eh heh heh heh!)  
  
11) Sponge  
  
Troi was just getting ready to take a shower. A cold one. She needed it after her snugglefest on the bridge. Fortunately, the environmental controls had been fixed. Stepping into her shower, she turned on the water.  
  
'I needed this,' she thought as she reached for her sponge. As she grabbed the sponge it squeaked. Taking a closer look she screamed. It was a. . . tribble. Dropping the 'sponge', she ran out of the shower, grabbed a towel and picked up her phaser. The tribbles (yes, there's more of them) filed out of the bathroom, growling menacingly. They were wet. Deanna took one look at the fluffy mass and took aim. This means war.  
  
12) Target Practice  
  
Our brave, soaked trio arrived at sickbay, La Forge a bit disgruntled at having to see the doctor again. Suddenly Spot dashed out from behind Data to chase a placard-toting tribble.  
  
"Spot, I do not believe that is a good idea," the android remarked to the feline. Just then a phaser bolt pulped one of the hapless protesters at their ankles. Looking to the source, they were nearly 'flattened' by a horde of running tribbles being pursued by a phaser-wielding, towel-clad Troi.  
  
"Come back here, you!" she yelled passing the bewildered trio. As the stampede cleared, La Forge shook his head.  
  
"That was weird," he said. Spot then ran by again, only this time the protesters were chasing him. The feline then climbed up Data, meowing, attaching himself to the android's head.  
  
"I told you, that was not a good idea." Reaching up, he attempted to pull the cat free, however in the end, Spot remained where he was.  
  
"Looks like Spot has you wrapped around his finger," La Forge said jokingly as they entered sickbay.  
  
"But, Geordi, Spot does not have fingers."  
  
13) Baseballs  
  
As Deanna and her horde rampaged past Holodeck One, a tribble broke off from the group, slipping inside. There, in casual attire, were Worf and Alexander engaged in an activity known as 'catch'.  
  
"I will teach you how to throw and catch like a warrior." Worf intoned severely to his son. The boy rolled his eyes and stood ready for the toss. Worf bent, grabbing what he thought was a baseball, except he did not recall a baseball to be soft and fluffy. Glancing at the purring 'ball' in his hand, he screamed (in high falsetto no less) and hurled the tribble at his son. Poor Alexander went flying with an 'oof!' and smacked into the holographic fence behind him.  
  
"You do not catch like a warrior!" Worf spat out, angered with the fluffy intrusion. The boy, dusting himself off, taunted in reply, "Well, you scream like a little girl."  
  
Worf just stared at his son for a second, and simply replied, "I am Worf." 


	5. They can be dangerous

Disclaimer: It already has been said, dammit! (MK: Mmm. . .Sarai's stolen sugar^^ S:*glares*)  
  
14) Assassins  
  
Wesley was a happy little boy. He had gotten a 112% on his astro- techno-babble quiz and wanted to show his mom what perfect (as in irritating) young lad he was. Upon reaching Sickbay, as his mother was on duty, he heard a quiet purring sound.  
  
"What's that?" he asked his imaginary friend Ay-plus. Finally, he actually bothered to take his nose out of the air and then noticed the cute, little furry creatures with placards at his feet.  
  
"Oh, cute!" he squealed, picking up one hapless tribble protestor, "I'm gonna love you, and squeeze, and hugs you to pieces."  
  
The unfortunate tribble squeaked with alarm, wondering what was seriously wrong with this kid. The remaining tribbles took one look at each other and dropped their placards à la Toronto Leafs vs. Ottawa Senators. (a/n: For those of you who do not know hockey as we do, these teams are blood thirsty when facing each other.)  
  
Moving as one entity, the tribbles crawled up Wesley's legs, soon engulfing the poor, 'perfect' boy. The now furry mass dropped heavily to the deck with one arm flailing comically out of the fur. The arm went limp in a few seconds and was then swarmed as well.  
  
Their work now complete, the protesters crawled off to regain their placards and regard their handiwork. It was most satisfying to see the mangled remains of the grubby little tribble-snatcher. Now the only thing left to do was to dispose of the body.  
  
15) Garbage Disposal  
  
The 'perfect' boy really lived up to his name, in the tribble's opinions. He tasted good. They had, however, left the uniform alone, because it tasted funny. After they had finished off most of the body, the tribbles discovered a big blood smear in the carpet, so some of them started eating the carpet while the rest polished off the remaining little tidbits of ensign lying around (tribble feeding frenzies are rather messy affairs).  
  
Our traumatized tribble protester, along with a few members of its immediate family, was happily chewing on one of the offending arms when out of the mass of fur a commbadge beeped.  
  
"Ensign Crusher to the bridge."  
  
The tribbles looked at each other, worried. Now what would they do?  
  
16) Substitute Ensign  
  
Picard glanced over at the turbolift as it opened.  
  
"Your shift started ten minutes ago Ens---Ensign Crusher?"  
  
Ensign Crusher-or rather, his bloodstained uniform full of furry lumps- cooed in the affirmative as he-or they-squirmed out of the lift and crawled over to the helm. It took a few tries for the ensign to take 'his' seat, but eventually he made it.  
  
"Er. . . very well. Take us out, Mr. Crusher."  
  
After much cooing, purring, and squeaking, two fluffballs crawled out of the uniform sleeves and began bouncing on the console. Eventually they hit the right button and the ship began to move. Smart little buggers, aren't they? 


	6. A 'convenient' crisis

The now tired, worn out disclaimer has gone on a holiday and left no phone number for it to be reached. We apologise for the inconvenience. Special thanks go out to tia the tribble, crusherjaneway and Altra Palantir for their many reviews (Sarai is jumping around all review-happy!)  
  
17) Stress-balls  
  
"Eek! Eek! Eek!"  
  
Picard's furry new stress-ball was a loud one. He was having so much fun with it that he almost didn't hear the squeak that came from the console.  
  
"What is it, Ensign?"  
  
After more jumping and squeaking, the tribbles patched through an audio transmission.  
  
"Shuttle Scrap Metal requesting clearance to land! We're badly damaged!"  
  
Picard pondered for a second, squeezing the tribble.  
  
"I don't remember sending a shuttle out. Oh well. Open the main shuttle bay."  
  
He tapped his commbadge, calling Sickbay itself instead of Dr. Crusher personally.  
  
"Medical team to Main Shuttle bay."  
  
Three minutes and 37.77 seconds later Dr. Crusher accompanied by Geordi, Data with Spot still on his head, and a horde of tribbles arrived outside the main shuttle bay doors.  
  
"Okay, now wait for the shuttle -no don't!" Crusher started as the tribbles climbed through a convenient open hatch.  
  
18) Emergency Landing Pad  
  
From outside the bay, they heard a series of sounds following this order: Crash, squeak, crunch, squish.  
  
"My minions!" Crusher bawled as she opened the door.  
  
Our dynamic trio (quartet if you count Spot) were greeted with the sight of a flipped over shuttle and a large blood smear, which the remaining tribbles were lapping up.  
  
"My poor minions!!" The nearest seven tribbles reacted to this and began to nuzzle the distressed doctor's ankle. In turn, she crouched and began to pet her 'minions'.  
  
Meanwhile, Data and Geordi went over to inspect the smoking shuttle. Suddenly Spot hissed and leapt off the android's head as a orange, bristly mass.  
  
"I wonder what is wrong-" the android stated before the shuttle door conveniently fell atop him in such away to pop his head off. Unfazed, the android's head rolled to the side and finished his sentence."-With Spot? Oh, I see." He added realizing his current predicament. Just then a horde (if three can be a horde) of Romulans stampeded out of the shuttle, knocking La Forge off his feet as they headed out of the shuttle bay.  
  
Overcoming her shock, Crusher's eyes narrowed as she ripped opened an unsuspecting crate (poor crate T.T). Emptying the said crate's contents, 50 hand phasers no less, into the mass of tribbles, she then hefted her own phaser rifle, which was conveniently at the bottom of the crate.  
  
"We hunt my minions! Eheeheehee!" With that she ran out the shuttle bay doors to 'hunt' the Romulans, closely followed by the phaser-wielding tribbles. 


	7. Dirty Dreams and Romulan Nightmares

The disclaimer will soon be laid off, because this is the last chapter. 'Tis a pity, since Sarai and I had lots of fun writing this. Thanks to all the reviewers, present and future. Enjoy! Oh yeah, I forgot, we don't own Star Trek TNG or any other Star Trek (this is the purpose of a disclaimer, is it not?)  
  
19) substitute security guards  
  
" Who in their right mind leaves only one engineer to take care of Engineering?" Barclay thought as he strode quickly down the hall. Our poor, stuttering friend had no idea that the ship was being overrun by tribbles or that a Romulan boarding party had just, well, boarded. All he knew was that for most of the shift he'd been fixing the table-thingy, and when he finally looked up he was all by his lonesome. The bridge wasn't answering the comm., so he was forced to go right up there to seek an explanation. He was so nervous that he almost didn't notice as a light brown fluffball scurried through his feet. He did notice when several others and a phaser bolt immediately followed it. He also heard a yell. "Come back here, you!"  
  
"W-what--?" he blurted out, turning around, but he didn't finish the sentence before someone crashed into him and both tumbled to the deck in a heap. Barclay found himself pinned flat on his back by someone with long dark hair sprawled flat against him.  
  
"Are-are you alr."  
  
His words died on his lips as the person moved to get up, without their precious towel. "Umm." he barely managed to gasp before the said person, Deanna Troi, screamed and ran away, snatching up 'the precious towel' on her way.  
  
Barclay was so stunned by having been in his dream position for just a few seconds that he also barely noticed as he was trampled by three frantic Romulans, a horde of bloodthirsty tribbles, and a phaser-wielding Crusher, cackling inanely. Poor Barclay. Poor, poor Barclay.  
  
20) barricade  
  
"All hands to battle stations," Picard's voice blared over the console, "We're under attack. Also, we have intruders. Security to deck Five, section whatever, you know the drill."  
  
As said security arrived at the section, so did the Romulans. Who smacked right into a forcefield. Ouch. Security decided to mock them (lazy bums) from the other side of the forcefield. The Romulans didn't have time to care about this though, nor to fix their normally perfect bangs, for a dark shadow loomed behind them. It purred ominously. They turned around to find themselves cornered by an undulating mass of fur. Of course, we all know what cornered Romulans do. They fire. With every shot the barricade rippled, but it regenerated and started to growl. Realizing the ineffectiveness of their weapons, the Romulans stopped and just stared. The wall suddenly bulged and opened to reveal a lone blue-clad figure. The red-haired doctor's gaze was more menacing than any demon from any fable as she stepped through the gap. It closed behind her with a soft purr.  
  
Needless to say, the Romulans were terrified. And we all know what terrified Romulans do. They fire. The tribble barricade extended tentacles at lightning speed to intercept each disrupter bolt before it could strike the doctor, and to the Romulan's horror she was totally unsinged. The weapons fell from their frozen hands in slow motion and thudded uselessly on the floor. What was this creature of fire hair and ice eyes, which could bend this abomination to her will? The demon (for in the Romulan's minds she could only be a demon) turned and stroked the wall affectionately, murmuring,  
  
"Excellent work, my minions."  
  
Then she turned those terrible cold eyes back to her prisoners, with a glare that could destroy the courage of the staunchest centurion, and addressed them.  
  
"You're mine now. Onward, my minions, attack!"  
  
The Romulans disappeared under a massive pile of tribbles. The security guards, meanwhile, had procured a couple of lawn chairs and a bag of popcorn to watch the show.  
  
Barclay had just dragged himself to a turbolift when the sound of far-away screams and maniacal laughter floated down the hall. The sheer terror of the screams sent a shudder down his spine as he entered the lift.  
  
"B-bridge." he stammered, and the lift started moving.  
  
The ship shook as he arrived at the bridge.  
  
"Return fire!" Picard yelled. Work smashed his hands through the tactical console in a typical display of Klingon temper and barked, "Phasers offline! We are out of torpedoes!"  
  
Barclay's all-too-recent trampling seemed to have been beneficial. He had an idea.  
  
21) (yes the last one!) furry torpedoes  
  
"Fire!" Picard yelled. Fortunately, Worf's temper tantrum hadn't wiped out the fire button, and four torpedoes streaked towards the Romulan ship. How, do you ask, did they find more torpedoes? These torpedoes were special, for you see, they were brown and furry and growled when they were loaded into the torpedo tubes. Upon striking the Warbird the torpedoes fragmented into little pieces, and the Romulans discovered just how dangerous furballs can be. Their shields were being consumed by tribbles! The Enterprise fired again and again, and each furry torpedo exploded into a mass of hungry tribbles. They had eaten the shields in no time.  
  
In the middle of the battle, Barclay ran onto the bridge, gasping, "W-we need-d m-more ammo!" He immediately espied the tribbles masquerading as Ensign Crusher. Barclay scooped up the ensign/tribble protestors and wordlessly ran off the bridge. Picard just shrugged.  
  
"We don't need Wesley anyway."  
  
The Enterprise kept firing until the last torpedo (with small placards hanging out of it) Impacted with the Romulan Warbird. Within seconds, the famished tribbles had stripped the Warbird clean, eaten the insides, and finished off the skeletal structure.  
  
"So what do we do now?" Riker asked his captain.  
  
"Umm.. set a course for thataway, warp 5.4" Picard told the nameless person now at the helm. The Enterprise streaked away into space, leaving behind all the tribbles.or did they?  
  
Epilogue  
  
Beverly Crusher was not pleased. Her minions were now floating in space! This was all Barclay's fault. She stroked one of the five tribbles she'd managed to hide (stuffing them down her shirt had not been a picnic).  
  
"Mean old Barclay, shooting my poor minions into space like that." she murmured to the tribble, who promptly reproduced, "We'll get him my minions, yes."  
  
Quiet time with her minions was interrupted by the sickbay doors. It was Geordi who walked in, all alone.  
  
"Uh, I have a problem." he began, then a squirming lump suddenly appeared on his forehead. Dr. Crusher smiled. 


End file.
